Circles
by Ruiniel
Summary: Haleth has led her people well, dedicating her entire life to duty. Now an old woman, she reminisces of the past. A short AU where Caranthir the Dark and Haleth of the Haladin shared more than just words.
1. Of woe and will

**1\. Of woe and will**

My time is near. I suppose all among the kindred of men feel it. A manner of mercy, they say. For one to attempt and severe their ties to this world, to prepare and hedge others to carry on their legacy. To say their farewells.

The years have been hard and full of both darkness and hope for us. And where before I ran and rode and fought over neverending plains and forests, now I merely watch, lying in bed, my bleak vision straying beyond the window of my hut amidst the darkened boughs of Brethil Forest.

My farewells were said and done, and now I wait for the nether. I will go forth with my head high, knowing I have done all that was in my power to lead our people to a better home, a fuller life.

But life has never been easy.

And as I sit here, unable to rise as before, my bones now weary and thin, my mind yet runs over green fields of memory and forgotten seas of hope. And at last, it comes to the one farewell I have not said, and never will. And there it dwells, as it had countless times in the past.

I stood alone throughout my life, dedicating all to duty. And even then there were those voices, either of dissent or wrought with true concern, wondering why I should not take a husband and bring forth heirs as customary among my people, and indeed many peoples of this world.

_"Would that I could,"_ I would tell them, and they would wonder and whisper, and surely think me mad and strange, though none ever questioned my words outright.

But what could I tell them? That I belonged with one whom I would never again meet until the ends of the world, and possibly not even then? That I had surrendered my soul to he whom I then left, abandoned, and that I have done it all for them?

How could I tell them such?

Nay, all this is mine alone to bear. And somewhat grudgingly I clutch at these memories of him and I, all that I have to keep me company now as I slip away with each passing day. My body will be dust, my mind a memory. My deeds may or may not be remembered or honored in any song. But the bond still grips me, and though at times, full of endless woe and desperation I loathed it so, I am certain that it will be the sole token I take with me beyond the shores of the world.

And as countless times before, though I battled relentlessly against it through the years, my thought ever strays to him.

* * *

I had little love for his manner when we first spoke.

We had been cornered like beasts, struggling to hold against the creatures of darkness who came upon us as cruel and swift as lightning. My father and brother and I, and all of us left our homesteads and retreated until we came to an angle of land between the rivers Gelion and Ascar. There we built hasty defenses and led all of our people through, despite many knowing in their hearts that this may well be their end. We lay besieged by the orc and the little food we had saved dwindled rapidly.

For days we held our own for better or worse, and the enemy seemed to ever grow in numbers while our own diminished with worrying speed.

And though I was not even in my adult years at the time I never shunned the blade, for that was our way. And so I stood beside my father and drove them out and kept them at bay best we could. And all they did was shout and cry at how they would ravish and tear me apart once they defeated our ragged and worthless lot.

I recall the warmth of the heavy hand on my shoulder. "Pay them no heed, Haleth. We will win the day. We must hold."

I gritted my teeth against the fear coiled so deep within me and steeled my mind to do as my father asked.

Those were the last words he ever spoke unto me.

I watched as he fell, and then saw my brother, a foreboding look in his eyes and a steel grip on my shoulder holding me firm. "You stay, for our people will have need of you."

And he went, and there died my family, hewed before the frightened eyes of our women and children.

Then on the seventh day, the foe, at last, broke our defenses and their weapons had begun to cleave through our people. But beyond hope, we heard the wailing of trumpets, and soon our distressed eyes beheld tall riders and spears of silver.

And this unknown host rode them down, the disgusting creatures who ruined and dismembered my family and threw them into the rivers.

I recall running straight to the fallen bodies of my father and brother, straining to breathe and at the same time draw them from the midst of the slain, to cover their battered limbs with my ragged cloak. Then my gaze caught movement, and lifting my eyes I saw a black horse bearing a rider clad in mail and crimson. His helm hid most of his face, and blinded by stray tears I could not see his eyes. He spurred his horse and an imperious voice filled my ears.

"Where is your leader?"

* * *

Assessing the inside of the hastily raised tent, I recall gaping in wonder at the intricately woven material and sparse yet elegant furniture.

I, for my part, had no notion of elegance at the time. Our people had traveled much and toiled hard for a sparse and lacking life, and we knew little of the ways of other kindreds. Least of all we knew of elves. And though I was enthralled, I also felt a sliver of resent rise within me. Who were these high lords atop their mighty steeds, so carelessly flaunting their riches before us? How dared others not partake of our misery, and so easily dismiss it with their steel stares and aloof manner?

He stood there in his polished mithril armor, his dark hair of a foreign shine to my eyes falling in waves over shoulders draped in a crimson cloak. I knew it was him, by sight of his helm which now stood on the table.

I stood straighter when our stares collided, and for a brief moment, my breath caught. I recall the flicker as if it were yesterday.

Aught had fallen into place.

His voice beckoned me to return from my momentary lapse of reason. Its quality was grave and low when he spoke, its call dark as a clear winter night. "Lady Haleth, I bid you welcome."

"I am no lady," I blurted swiftly and harshly, my mind cursing my stunted words and hitched speech. But I stood as tall and straight as I was able, or as seven days of battle and loss would allow.

A black fire brimmed in those eyes but his face showed nothing.

"Then what am I to call you?" asked the elf then in his foreign accent, and I recall the surge of shame at my foolish compulsion to thwart him.

I berated myself. This elven lord and his host had come and found us in dire need and dying by the numbers, and without a second thought had offered their invaluable aid. And though it was aught my people had seldom experienced, I knew that gratitude was due.

But nothing more.

Yet I thought, at the time, that I may have offended him. I knew little of elves, and so was astonished when instead of ire I was met with the softening lines of his face, and the slight quiver of his lips.

Was he mocking me? My hands tightened involuntarily into fists. A mighty elf lord though he was, and ruler of these lands, but I came to him in honor. And though in worn ragged furs and leathers I may have been and he in rich silks woven by immortal hands, the blood of my people had spilled protecting these lands_, his_ lands. And thus, I thought, as their representative he would show the respect that was due. Not for me, as much as for them.

"You are to call me chieftain."

I still so vividly remember his shapely eyebrows shooting upward. "How old are you?" asked the sullen elf, now come before the table and leaning with his palms against it, a shadowed smirk waylaying his features.

Potent anger rose through my entire being, and barely could I cease the nervous trembling of my limbs. He saw it either way. He also knew that in that moment I felt the need to strike him. I know this with certainty, for we spoke of it later.

"My age should be of no concern to one of elven kind, I should think. Chieftain is what I am, following the death of my father and brother in this sortie."

The mirth which shone in those nightly coils died, and his face became stern as we faced each other. "My condolences for your loss, _chieftain_," he stressed the word, only to irk me further, I thought.

I nodded in acceptance, and then looked him in the eye. "Lord Carnistir, I speak for my people when I say we are most grateful for your aid," I braved, carefully drawing any sort of emotion out of my voice. "But we have nothing to offer you as recompense for this timely support," I decided to delve to the midst of the matter, assuming that was the direction this was headed.

He righted himself then and came closer to where I stood, straight as a rod and with my hand grasping the handle of my father's sword for dear life.

My heart drummed faster with every step until he came to stand before me, taller than any being I had ever seen and though I knew little of life beyond the strip of land our people called home, I was certain that he would also remain the fairest.

His eyes flitted briefly over me, and I wondered why he lingered. I wanted this to be done with. But if I knew little of elves, I knew even less of the male ilk. I thought nothing of how his eyes strayed to my long and unruly reddish-brown locks, down to my calfskin wrapped boots and up again, over my dirty tunic, marred with black blood and grime until those black orbs locked with my own green ones. I raised my chin higher in defiance, unwilling to grant anyone the satisfaction of thinking they may cower me. He would later tell me he had been smitten, though failing to acknowledge such even to himself. For my part, I would tell him he was a fool.

But then we both were.

"I want no manner of restitution from your people, Haleth daughter of Haldad. If that is your worry, then you may freely relinquish the thought."

"I may freely do much, for that is what I am. We are all free, and will fight for this until our dying breath."

Then to my astonishment and in an unexpected flurry, his mood turned fey. "Free, on _my_ lands."

This was preferable. An irate elf lord was much, much better than a scornful, derisive one. "Not for much longer," I said, every bit the stubborn daughter my father had raised me to be.

"Make certain of it," he spoke lowly through gritted teeth, his face poorly veiling his discontent, and I recall how it was my turn to smirk then.

He then abruptly turned his back on me and went to sit back at his richly crafted table, taking a scroll in hand.

I fought against the brimming humiliation of his gesture, but before I could leave without a word, insulted at this petty disregard for my pretense of equality, he looked at me again and spoke. "You are weary. We will continue this on the morrow. Farewell for now, chieftain."

I shortly inclined my head and, secretly thankful for him allowing me the upper hand in choosing an end to this meeting, I turned on my heel without having the last word and left him alone in his master-crafted tent.

That night, along with the screams of my father and brother, the dark light of his eyes followed my dreams through the first rays of dawn.


	2. Of selfish joy

**2\. Of selfish joy**

I have always known my desires, and never shied from making them known. Where there is youth there is fire and I was no different. My folk had well respected Haldad, my father. And then they had seen enough of me during our desperate stand, which they thought would be our last, to readily support my hand in the burden of rule. I awaited for challengers, naysayers, but to my surprise there came none. And we knew there was no life for us in Thargelion. We had to be gone, and a life further into the West was our purpose. Farther from the darkness ruling the world, which the elves ever battled since their arrival to these lands, or so I had heard.

Following our fight against the creatures of Morgoth, the elven host stood by us for some time and indeed have set in aiding to rebuild part of our homesteads. I had to admit the need was dire, with the many wounded we had in our midst.

Tall, fair, and cold most of them were, but none shirked from any duties and even the most menial of tasks were carried with no protest.

It was a strange sight.

"Why are you doing this?" I remember asking the one whom I knew to address as prince Carnistir at the time. For he was indeed a prince of elves I had learned, by nature of his line. And it all made me seethe even further though I no less lamented the queer manner of our first meeting.

"I fail to understand," the elf offered, then standing beside me with his hands behind his back.

"You continue to aid us. Why."

There was a pause before he spoke. "Are your valor and unity not reasons enough?" he answered with a question, at which point my initial dislike of him returned.

"But before you feel slighted yet again," he continued, "it is because you so clearly need it."

Many things I hated about his words. We knew our worth, we needed not elves to tell us of it. Yet he also spoke true. We sorely welcomed their aid in numbers indeed.

His manner had changed the second time we spoke at length, and indeed the following. The frosty demeanor remained, but there was no more derision on his face or in his voice when he addressed me. But the fire in his eyes, that burned the same.

"We will remove to Estolad," I spoke unto him, hoping there would be no qualms with my following words. "But we are not yet ready." He had been quite vehement the first time that we were to leave his lands as swiftly as possible, and a part of me loathed having to offer words of penance for our delay.

"You misconstrue me, chieftain," said the elf after moments in silence. "Whatever I may have said, it was not my intent to at once force you away from lands none make use of today. Stay and prepare, and depart when you are ready." I then felt his eyes on me as my gaze focused ahead. "You have my continued support, should you desire it."

Again I found it unusual, that he would offer such to mortals his kind so clearly thought fleeting and wild, and reduced to surviving the day, and therefore beneath them. There was a quiet strained pride in the manner of the Eldar towards us Men, though it may have been more visible to our eyes than theirs.

I looked to him finally, and found myself lingering on the dark and dangerous beauty of his features in the late westering sun. His straight hair a black river to drown in, and I recall wondering how it would feel against the tips of my fingers.

"Chieftain," I realized he was speaking to me and nearly flinched, meeting his gaze.

"Aye, lord."

"Will you and what you can spare of your men join us for a hunt? I see the need is dire, and after your heavy losses I know they would welcome the nourishment."

I felt my face warming and cursed whatever had caused it, wishing not for the first time that my father was doing this instead of me. And then my mien must have grown dark with the thought, for he spoke again.

"Of course, it is only a courtesy invitation. We can do well enough on our own."

"Nay!" I added, too swiftly for my liking. "Nay, we will join you."

So he nodded to me his strange salute, bringing his palm to his breast, and left me watching a sun that had already set. I found it curious how his steps made no sound. Now thinking back to my young and foolishly deluded self, I can surely say that was the moment. The moment when deep within I knew what I wanted.

* * *

We hunted together once, twice, and soon times too many to count, both with and without a host.

And as my people lingered and thoughts of leaving simmered, with all focus being on retrieving what we had lost and rebuilding our livelihoods, I found solace in this new and unlikely company. It suited me, and at the time I thought little of the times he would ride from his home in Helevorn to see how we fared, bringing men and some form of aid or another more often than not.

And as the years passed the quiet and morose Elf-lord I had met after a grueling fight slowly became someone I was glad to see riding before me and eager to speak to, of matters of both rule and strategy and all in between. Of course, to him I would never show such anticipation outright.

Then at times, we found ourselves straying from our company to be alone, where I could share things I dared not share with anyone since my brother had perished. He would listen only offering advice when requested, which I now think may have been a change to suit my then easily riled temper. And he would speak of himself, and his own brothers and family. It astonished me at first, for I never thought him capable or willing of opening so honestly with regards to kin. And not towards a mortal either way.

It was once during one such outing that all changed.

We had been pursuing the trace of a boar for some time, and I followed him closely for his senses were keener.

"Carnistir," I whispered, wanting detail on what he could discern ahead. Then he did aught unexpected and sudden. He half-turned as he listened and placed a long, elegant finger to my mouth, hedging me to silence.

The gesture marked the first time we touched and was soon accompanied by the swift drumming of my heart. And then as in a dream he slowly turned to face me fully, and I knew not whether to brave this or flee. I had never felt the coward before.

His finger slowly glided from my lips, but his eyes never left mine.

"We should not linger so, alone, any longer," he spoke then. "Tongues are loose and minds scattered."

His words caused a near physical pain. How long had he waited to tell me this, I wondered? I then knew he had been pondering on the different facets of this unusual connection perhaps more than I. And I felt all the more young and foolish before him. "You wish for us not to meet any longer?" I had to know.

He drew closer. "I wish for you to be held in honor, not a topic of gossip."

"I am held in honor, or had you not noticed," my pride said.

And we regarded each other for a long time in silence, and my lips parted as I studied his face. His fair, beautiful smooth face, dark eyebrows framing eyes where an eternal fire burned.

"Is that all you wish for?" I asked, my voice too small to my own ears, regretting the words the moment I uttered them.

"Haleth."

"Aye," I breathed unable to look away, expecting an elvish rebuttal from the hissed way he uttered my name. I already felt the cold shame at thinking such things as I did a moment before.

But when he said nothing more and did not move I knew, somehow I felt, that he was faced with the same inner strife as I.

By then I had not been with any men, nor indeed shared even a kiss to know what it meant or how it felt.

But that did not prevent my arm from reaching around his neck, nor my lips from gliding over his in a movement so swift even he appeared bewildered. So we clashed in a flurry, more powerfully than blade against blade, and to my selfish joy, it took a mere flicker of time before he deepened what I had begun. He drew me closer into him, tasting me wildly and fervently, and I was smiling into his kiss. And we went this way until his perfect silken tresses were disarrayed by my searching and fumbling fingers, and my body came completely lined against his.

Just as suddenly he ceased it all, at once astonished and confused, and I recall a sadness and worry brimming in his eyes. He took me by the shoulders, still panting from the sudden storm we had both just weathered. "This is... too young... you are too young."

So many differences between us. He had lived years many times my age, yet he failed to understand human reckoning. I was not too young to hold a sword and thrust it into the flesh of orcs. I was not too young to watch my family die while I stood and fought to live though I wished to join them. Too young to lead a scattered people, I was not. I was not too young to love him. "You foolish elf," were the only words I had, and taking him by the collar of his tunic I kissed him again. This time deeper and longer, and though he stiffened at first, to my great relief I soon felt him relent. Then his arms were around my waist, and I had little chance to breathe for the pursuits of his mouth on mine. A scent of wild dark forests, the warmth of a roaring fire on the coldest of nights. From that moment I would recognize it anywhere, and in any Age of the world.

"This is a war of your making, chieftain," he whispered with a defeated smile when we at last broke apart, his chin resting atop the crown of my head. I can still feel the burning quality of his hands on my back, bringing me closer to him.

Little did I know, how much truth his words held at the time.


	3. Of fire and loss

**3\. Of fire and loss**

The cold seeps through my garments, though I lie covered in heavy furs. The young maid tending to me releases my ice-cold hand, kneeling to stir the fire cracking in the low lit chamber. Watching the flames with weary eyes I sigh, reminded of its duality. An eternal force of nature, both purifying and ruthless in its power. It will not be much longer now. I feel my body readying itself for rest at last. And though my spirit writhes, twisting against the void torn so long ago, I am ready. I will receive the gift with all the grace that I have left, and hold this fear I feel shackled to its worldly bonds. Beyond the Circles there is no place for it and my sole hope and wish, were I to be granted one, is that my father and brother await me there.

And then I wonder if they will. Will I even remember the being I had been, bound in flesh? Will my memories follow me past the Doors of Night? Will I yet know of _him?_

Even in what I feel to be my final hours, I dwell. And again I feel guilt, for I will be free, and he will linger through long ages until such time as fate deems fit. How I wish that I could speak the words so he could hear them one last time. How I wish he could feel them now.

As the pains lengthen I focus inward, and I recall the winds lashing at our faces as we assessed our enemy from hidden slopes; our swords slashing into fell flesh as we fought back to back, ever watchful of each other. I will never forget the beauty of him, so deadly in his dance amidst the throes of battle. Or the warmth in his dark eyes as we stood lying in nothing but our skin and his hand would roam, pulling my hips to him. I still recall as if it were yesterday, the most tender hands I had ever felt on me, pursuing my sighs of content.

_"Sing for me, narwe,"_ he would whisper against my lips, diving into me with unrestrained longing.

And as much as I resented being led in all manner of things, this I would allow him. In passion, he nearly always ruled and I followed, with reckless abandon and ever despairing at the thought of our imminent separation. I needed his touch like nothing else in those days, and every moment we spent together I felt us meld even deeper into one another.

Their customs differed much to those of Men and in many things, but none more so than in matters of the heart.

I often see the vision of him on our first night together splayed onto the forest floor, the elven prince and the unlikely leader of Men, hiding from the world akin to children shunning their elders. His eyes full of yearning as his hands steadied my own hungry ones eagerly picking at the fastenings of his fine garb. Telling me, with gentleness and soft words that would have made his captains grimace, of what it all meant to him. And how to lie with him was the sealing of an unbreakable bond that none of us would ever be free of.

_"Will you consent?"_ he had asked, with a solemnity which I then felt was ill-matched to our light and tender pursuits.

And taken as I was, by him and all that he brought into my life, I did.

Fool that I was.

* * *

As years passed there came the time at last to fulfill my promise, and my people were eager and ready to go forth and travel to better lands with renewed hope. We were finally prepared.

"Where?"

"To Estolad, as I have originally deemed suitable," I spoke in answer to his curt question. My eyes looked past the wide window, where a full moon shone reflected in quiet waters.

He stood with his back turned to me, his hand propped against the smoldering fireplace. We had met in his Helevorn dwelling but twice in all our sparse and fragmentary times together, gone through significant lengths to not arouse suspicion in the minds of others.

"No you are not," he muttered lowly.

"I am, and we must. It is time." My voice was brittle ice.

"By whose notion?" he whirled to face me then, and I felt dismayed by the certainty that this would be just as difficult as I had imagined, during all those times I repeated the words in my solitude.

"Mine," I said with my head held high, and at least I kept the waver in my voice at bay.

His eyes on me were molten. "You cannot." And he drew nigh, close enough for me to feel the tremor of him. But then he went completely still, his gaze set beyond me.

Cautiously I placed my hands on him and pursued a one-sided embrace. "You know of duty. I, too, have one yet to fulfill to my people," I spoke into him, even as I felt him tense in my arms.

He sharply shifted as if I had struck him, and his eyes were terrible when met with mine. "Damn your people, and curse your orcish stubbornness," he seethed darkly, the pale skin of his neck flushing a reddish hue from the fire of his ire.

Then he must have seen my widened eyes and the nervous quiver of my limbs, for he quietened and lowered his head. Still, with his gaze set downward he stood until I finally found the strength to approach him again. He turned his head, refusing to meet my eyes.

I wished yet again, as every time I had in his presence lately, that my chest was hollow.

"Duty," he spat as if the word had caused the most grievous offense. "I have offered you your choice of freedom, lands to dwell in, protection. I offer you myself. But you, in your crass compulsion to never be subdued insist on this foolishness," he spoke sadly. "Why, Haleth?"

He was not being unreasonable. Indeed, this was all we could ever hope for. But I had come to know that I loved him more than I did my own people, which both frightened and deeply shamed me. It felt, at the time, a betrayal of the silent promise I made to my father and the trust placed in me by my brother.

_We must hold_.

"Carnistir," I hedged, speaking as softly as one would to a dear but enraged beast, using the name I knew he preferred. My hand lightly caressed his set jaw. "I cannot. It means abandoning what my family has perished fighting for." This I hoped, he of all beings would understand. Was he not bound by a similar oath, after all?

But his otherwordly eyes remained averted from mine. "A life of nothing awaits your people in the wilds of the West."

I forgave him that, for I knew how much I was hurting him.

"But time among your kind has taught me," he continued tiredly, "that despite your fleeting days Men always choose unlikely tales of what may be over wisdom." His words, though bitter, held a different quality then, of fated foresight which only those of the Eldar seemed to possess.

"I cannot stay," I choked, my walls crumbling before him. "I cannot be a wife to you," I finally braved, as gently as his words allowed me to be.

"But you _are_ my wife!" he interrupted harshly, and his gaze broke my barely held composure. "Or have you forgotten?" and he stepped against me even as I paced back, but despite the now blazing fury in his eyes, I felt no fear.

I had little choice but to falter and retreat from him, and he was ever advancing until the backs of my knees hit his bed, and I fell against his dark red sheets.

And though I knew this would change nothing, I allowed him to trap me, his fire unrelenting against my face, my chest, my hips.

"Answer me, Haleth..." he repeated his question though any pretense of response was long abandoned, and his lips soon spoke in different ways, his hands touching me in places he knew left me raw with need. And of course, he knew I would never forget.

His fingers urgently divesting me of my garments he took me fast and harsh well into the night allowing no reprieve, his hand fisted in my hair, his mouth barely allowing mine a drawing breath. And I clung to him as if my life was forfeit, joining this desperate and blissful revenge until we were both slippery and breathless and worn with longing.

"Please..." he pleaded into my hair repeatedly, trailing searing kisses along my neck, and I held him tighter with the warmth of him on my skin. To this day, I feel it. That was the first and only time I had ever heard one of the Eldar beg subdued by misery, and it was sobering to see that in pain, they were more like us than we knew.

"We are one," he said muffled into my chest, his voice hitched with fear of loss. He shook my body against him. "Haleth, please..."

And still, I left.

* * *

When the morrow of our departure came his face betrayed nothing but the aloofness of the northern elf lord that he was. But I saw, somehow beyond my power of comprehension, that the light in his distant eyes was dimmed and tattered as the crowd gathered behind us. And they were cold when we said our customary farewells before both our peoples, thanking him for all he had done, while he wished me safe travels and to reach our intended goal.

I merely nodded, my throat thick as I fought to subdue the surge of pain twisting me inside. His own. My own.

And then I understood what he had meant on our last night together.

_We are one._

He saw the change in me, but my choice had already been made.

And still, his gaze was stern, his face as blank as it had been on our first encounter, all those years past. The only movement I felt was that of our cloaks billowing in the crisp morning wind. I turned my face briefly to my waiting people.

Then with glistening eyes, I inclined my head towards him in swift farewell, striving to keep my heart from ruling over me. And I left.

I never saw him again.

Night after night, for many good years to come I would feel the hollow created by my own choosing, and hear his lorn whisper in my ear. And even now, as I lose myself in the dying embers of the fire, my body draining of life and shedding its earthly ties, I still do.

_Haleth, please..._

* * *

**A/N:**

**"narwe****" = "fiery red one" (Quenya)**

**Thank you for reading.**


End file.
